thepinkmartini: thanks! glad you liked them, and that line.
FoXyLoXyPaNtS: thanks! i was kinda nervous that it wouldn't work out well, but i'm glad you liked it.
a/n: sorry for my horribly sucky lack of updates :(. the usual stuff happened-school, college searches, and a massive thing of writers block.
I chickened out; I didn't go to Lou's.
Dad would've been pissed off, anyway. If he caught me there, I could forget going ever.
See ya.
Dad comes home at around midnight. I'm not supposed to be up, but I hear him drag his feet through the door from my bedroom. Nobody needs to know I was up.
I know where to step in our house so that the floor doesn't creak, and the doors won't moan. I maneuver myself around, see Dad sitting at the kitchen table. I can't see his face, but his shirt is red.
I'm sure he was wearing a white one when he left.
He sighs, takes a long drag on his freshly lit cigarette. Feet kicked up on the table, crossed at the ankles.
Shit, he breathes. His smoldering cigarette drops to the floor. He lazily uncrosses his ankles, stamps it out, then reassumes his position. What time is it…
Twelve oh seven.
He gets up suddenly and makes his way toward the refrigerator. Snatches a piece of paper out from underneath a magnet, his eyes reading quickly, bloodshot.
Inaudible. He smacks the paper on the kitchen table, upset with it. I can see my school's logo flash from the top. My report card.
He stretches and yanks off his shirt. It lands on the floor with a wet smacking sound.
It was definitely white when he left.
What? No, he's not watching me.
My eyebrows come close together. He's not talking to me.
It's too late for him to be up!
He moans and drops his head between his knees, coming dangerously close to hitting his head on the table. His hair shakes violently, like a dog that's just been doused with thirty gallons or so of water.
Stop, stop stop, he mutters. Shut up.
Scary.
I got rid of you. His voice is quiet. Leave me alone. What are you talking about; Marla's upstairs!
He starts to hit himself upside the head. My eyes get wide.
Help Dad. Somebody help him.
Me? No, not me. I can't help him. I meant someone else. Lou. Anybody but me. He's gonna kill himself in our kitchen, and then Mom's gonna come down and see him here.
Dead. With his red shirt that used to be white.
What're you doin' up, buddy? I whirl around, there he is behind me, grinning.
"N-nothing, I was just…I couldn't sleep, and…"
That's okay. Want a snack? He nudges me forward into the kitchen. He doesn't think I notice him kicking the shirt into the corner, but I do.
"Dad, what do you do at Lou's all the time?"
He shrugs. Play cards.
"Can I come sometime?"
He musses my hair again. It's not little-kid cards.
"Oh."
But we'll hang out sometime soon. I promise.
"Really?"
Hell. Yes.
"Just you and me, though, right?"
Man to man.
"Cool."
All right. Now get to bed before your mom finds you up so late. And blames me for it.
"Your dad's a little bitch!" Eddie yells. "He couldn't even get away with it; he went to jail!"
"Shut up, Eddie."
"Your dad's a failure at life! Just like you. You little worm!"
"Shut up, Eddie."
"You gonna make me?" He takes a step forward and his finger jabs hard into my chest. "You. Gonna. Take. Me. On. Kid?" His finger makes contact with each word.
Dad wouldn't want me to fight, would he? But he's a man. I want to be a man. Mom might get pissed, sure, but she's Mom.
I'm not a girl.
My dad's not a bitch.
I punch Eddie hard in the face.
Eddie's got a broken nose.
He stares at me for a few seconds, stunned. Did I just hit him? The blood cascading out of his nose like a faucet—is that because of me? Did I do that?
Damn.
"Oh, you're going down, jackass." He pounces on me, I flinch as my head smacks down hard on the concrete. I shield my face with my hands, but Eddie manages to poke through. I jerk my knee in and kick it up into his groin. He moans and yields just enough for me to roll over on top of him.
"My. Dad's. Not. A. Bitch," I spit at him. He glares up at me and fires the edge of his palm upward into my chin. I can hear something snap and a jolt of pain sears through my neck.
It's not broken, though. Keep going.
"You're. A. Bitch," I breathe. I punch him in the stomach now. He seems prepared, though, retaliating with an elbow aimed at my mouth. I'm back on the ground, and this is when I can feel a teacher dragging me up to my feet.
"What is going on here?" he asks, not expecting a response. "You, come with me." His fingers close around my wrist, he leads me into the school. I turn around and see Eddie being hauled off by another teacher.
I tongue around my mouth and realize that there's something missing. My tongue frantically scans my teeth and freezes on a vacant spot. I lost a tooth. Should I tell the teacher? What good would it do? Who wants a tooth that's been lying on the pavement, anyway? I glance back and my eyes just barely catch a faint glimmer of white. Over near the swing set.
It's a molar. Nobody's gonna miss it. Kiss it good-bye.